Trust Me
by Naughty Slayer
Summary: Tickle fetish fic. Rated R for future smut and language. Set after Gone, but before As You Were. Buffy asks Spike the same question he asked her: "Do you trust me?" I need reviews, tell me if I should continue!
1. Gaining Trust

**Title:** Trust Me  
**Author: ** Naughty Slayer  
**Summary:** Buffy puts Spike's weakness to her advantage. Set after Gone, but before As You Were.  
**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the fic you see before you. If you're planning on sueing me, too frickin' bad, 'cause I ain't making money off of this. Nyah! Characters are property of my beloved Joss Whedon. -petpet-  
  
He was running his tongue up the side of her neck when Buffy decided to teach him a lesson.  
  
There was something about the way that Spike was growling against her skin that just irked her off beyond belief; it was like he was a dog, some kind of predator claiming her as his own. He was always so cocky anyway, but this was the last straw. He nipped at her neck and snarled again; she inhaled sharply, unable to repress the surge of pleasure that shot through her. It pissed her off even more that he could do this to her, that he could make her feel these things. She was the Slayer, dammit, the fucking Slayer -- but Spike had control over her, and she knew it.  
  
Time for the tables to turn.  
  
Buffy placed her hands gently on his shoulders and pushed him back, fixing her face with an innocent stare.  
"Do you trust me?" she whispered. Spike stared at her like she was crazy, then quickly composed himself. She supposed he didn't want to waste any time with games -- the hard-on in his jeans was going to need tending to very soon. Whatever it takes to get in my pants, Buffy thought, and felt the anger in her chest flare up again.  
"Well, yeah," he said in a husky voice, and slowly rocked forward, grinding his hips hard against hers. She tried to repress a gasp and couldn't. This only fed the little fire of resentment that had sprung to life since he started to growl. " 'Course I trust you, love." Buffy's lips curled into a small, devilish smile as she slowly ran her hands down his bare chest, then back up to his neck. It made her satisfied to feel him shiver beneath her palms.  
"Then close your eyes," she purred. Spike's face briefly clouded over with an expression of doubt; when she bent her head and traced a path slowly up his chest with her tongue, he squirmed pleasurably and obediently closed his eyes. Buffy looked him over for a brief moment. His mouth was curled up into that cocky half-smirk, one that suggested he was expecting quite a treat for being so good. Not quite, she thought, and grinned.  
  
She searched the room briefly and found some conveniently placed manacles. He was waiting patiently as she set them up on his bed, fastening them securely to the posts. Buffy cracked open one of the cuffs, shot him a glance, and caught him with one eye open.  
"Eyes closed," she said sternly, and Spike's eyelid snapped shut.  
"Game of bondage, pet?" he asked in amusement as she carefully clicked the manacles around his wrists.  
"You bet," Buffy murmured. She made sure his arms were stretched tightly above his head, then slowly spread her legs to straddle his hips. Spike's hard-on was straining at his jeans and his breath was shallow. He was obviously very turned on; she smirked at his discomfort and slowly leaned forward, brushing her lips against his ear. "Still trust me?" Spike arched his back at the closeness.  
"Cor, love, what's the catch?"  
"No catch," Buffy murmured, reaching to the bedside table and grabbing something to tuck in the back of her jeans. It was a lie -- of course there was a catch. She had discovered something quite surprising when she was invisible. Undetected, it had been easy to catch Spike off his guard during (and before) sex; since he couldn't see her hands, it made it hard to anticipate her touch. So when Xander came in, she wanted to have some fun. Buffy had nibbled on Spike's various parts to drive him wild. It had worked, too -- Spike was squirming and having trouble concentrating on his conversation with Xander. She was having a ball, so she brought her hands into play too. She gently brushed her fingertips slowly over his body, down his back and around his neck. When her fingers reached his sides and stomach, his body had immediately tensed; Spike had let out a strangled laugh and blindly pushed her away. In that simple action, he had doomed himself -- Spike was ticklish, and now she knew it.  
  
"What sort of game are we playing, pet?" he asked in a tone of dry amusement. Buffy gave him a small, mischevious smile, and Spike seemed to sense it was not a game he was going to enjoy; he tensed just a little.  
"It's called 'How Long Does It Take To Break A Cocky Vampire'," she crooned, placing her hands on his sides, "or 'Spike's In Some Deep Shit'." His brows met in a confused frown, then shot up as Buffy's fingers moved down his sides, scrabbling softly at the contours of his ribs.  
"Ah -- AH --" Spike made an odd groaning noise as he tried first to stretch back, then twist away from her hands, but he didn't have enough leverage to avoid her fingers.  
"What's wrong, Spike?" Buffy asked innocently, her nails scratching lightly at the tender skin just below his ribs. "Is the the self-proclaimed Big Bad ticklish?" She paused to smirk down at his strained expression. It was quite obvious he was very ticklish, but much too proud to laugh. She planned to break him very quickly.  
"Buffy?" he said breathlessly, obviously confused.  
"Don't talk," she reprimanded, and attacked his stomach again. Spike's pale face went red as he held his breath in an attempt to conceal laughter; Buffy was undaunted, because whenever she hit a tender spot the corners of his mouth tried to jerk into a smile. He held out for a good two minutes before she pulled her hands from his body and hid them behind her back. "Still trust me, Spike?" she purred.  
"Slayer, this isn't funny," Spike growled. It was his chance to appear tough again, but the weak facade just made Buffy want to roll her eyes. "Let's just shag and get it over with --"  
"There will be no shagging until I've had my fun," she stated firmly, and pulled the object out of the back of her jeans where she'd tucked it. It was a black bandanna.  
"What's that for?" Spike sounded slightly cautious; she smiled and slowly leaned forward.  
"I want to be invisible again," Buffy whispered, and promptly placed it over his eyes, tying it around his head before he could even protest. She sat back to admire her work; Spike's arms were above his head, there was a blindfold over his eyes, and he was thrashing and cursing for all he was worth.  
  
Time for the fun to begin. 


	2. Dealing Punishment

**Title:** Trust Me  
**Author: ** Naughty Slayer  
**Summary:** Buffy puts Spike's weakness to her advantage. Set after Gone, but before As You Were.  
**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the fic you see before you. If you're planning on sueing me, too frickin' bad, 'cause I ain't making money off of this. Nyah! Characters are property of my beloved Joss Whedon. -petpet-  
  
"Slayer, when I get my hands out of these bloody cuffs..." Spike growled furiously.  
"That's not very nice, Spike," she lectured, then giggled softly. "Besides, if you keep threatening me like that I won't let you out of them at all." He whipped his peroxide-blonde head around, trying to catch some sort of glimpse of her, but the black cloth had rendered him completely blind. The chains held him there, helpless... Buffy swallowed and gave herself a mental slap, embarrassed at the warmth growing in her crotch. Drusilla was the Bondage Queen, if Spike's stories were true, and if she was getting turned on by this she was just as crazy as her. This was strictly for his punishment, not her pleasure. At any rate, Buffy was greatly amused by the way Spike was starting to sweat.  
  
She slid off of his chest and his legs immediately started to flail. Greatly appreciative of her Slayer strength, Buffy seized one by the ankle and pulled it taut, seizing a length of rope with her free hand. She thought he used it on her the week before. With surprising speed, she bound his ankle to the bedpost and tied it tight. His foot was conveniently held in place at the edge of the bed, sticking over the endboard and giving her plenty of room to do whatever she needed. Now for the other leg, Buffy thought, and calmly crossed to the other side. Spike was thrashing around and spitting out curses that a crusty sailor could've been proud of; she reached for his flailing leg and was a little too confident. He pulled out of her reach at the last second and gave her a good hard kick to the jaw, making her stumble back in mild shock. Buffy moved her jaw experimentally, then all but lunged at the bed and seized the offending limb, binding it to the bedpost even faster than the other one.  
"Bad move," she snapped after giving the rope a firm tug. "Think that little present is going to make it any easier on you?" Spike had finally stopped flailing and was lying there like a dormant tiger, a low growling noise rumbling deep in his throat.  
"You're going to pay for this, Slayer," he snarled.  
"What are you going to do, shake your cuffs at me?" Buffy grinned, pleased with herself, and turned to scour the room for something to use. He had pissed her off enough that she didn't want to let him get off with a mere 3rd-grade-playground tickling. This was going to be something he would remember for a long time. She turned away from him and dug around in a small dresser that was littered with a seemingly endless supply of empty cigarette boxes.  
"...fuck," she heard him say in defeat, and the manacles clanked against the headboard. Buffy picked up the only thing useful and turned back to the helpless vampire.  
"Found something to make my job easier," she said cheerfully, walking to the end of the bed. She lifted the bottle of lotion and shook it in his direction, then remembered his blindfold and lowered it sheepishly. "Cheap drug store lotion," Buffy elaborated with a cheeky grin. "Can't imagine what you've got this down here for."  
"Slayer," was his only growled reply.  
"Quit being such a bad sport. You're ruining my fun." She dropped to her knees and squirted some lotion into her hands, rubbing them together slowly. She could still see his face, tense and pale above the heaving bare chest. A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth as Buffy reached towards his left foot. Spike hardly ever smiled, but he was going to do plenty of smiling tonight.  
  
He gasped sharply as she began slowly massaging the lotion into the sole of his foot. Apparently, Spike was more ticklish than she thought; just by rubbing some cheap lotion onto his foot Buffy already had him squirming in discomfort. She grinned at the revelation and moved up to the stems of his toes, working the lotion slowly around and between them.  
"Ungh --" His sudden grunt made her glance up to see his mouth in a grimace, teeth tightly clenched. Buffy smiled again and set aside the lotion, planning to use it again later.  
"You know, Spike," she said casually in an attempt to catch him off guard, "I would've never even thought that you were ticklish. It's crazy, you know? That just the lightest of touches --" Buffy emphasized her words by dragging one finger slowly down the lotion-slick surface of his sole, and Spike made a strangled noise. "-- could bring a big, tough vampire to his knees. Crazy, right?" He didn't answer; she placed all five fingers at the center of his arch and tickled gently, being sure to trace the lines that ran across the sensitive skin. "Right?" she prompted. Spike's face was bright red now and his toes were wriggling in reflex, but he still managed not to laugh. Buffy, bored with the display of bravado, raked her nails slowly down the length of his sole. He bucked back against the headboard with a sudden explosion of laughter, his tense mouth finally flipping up into an unwilling smile.  
"Stop," he managed through his uncontrollable chuckles. Spike's laughter had a rich, deep quality to it, and Buffy was enjoying the sound immensely.  
"No," she said simply. Her fingers slowly scrabbled up his sole, bringing forth something of a howl. His toes tried to curl down and protect the skin, but she easily seized them and bent them back enough to have full access to his foot. Buffy scratched lightly at the stems of his toes, and Spike's laughter turned frantic; sensing that she had reached a sensitive spot, she pried two of his wiggling toes apart and stuck a finger in the space between, sliding the nail slowly up and down the tender skin. The bed shook dangerously. Buffy glanced up in surprise to see that Spike had arched his back in a desperate attempt to break his bonds and was now laughing wildly. "So much for composure, eh Spike?" she teased, tickling at the base of his toes at the same time with her free hand. He shook his head helplessly, a big grin on his normally pale face, and Buffy realized he was trying to get out something between shrieks. She couldn't entirely understand what he was saying, but decided to have some fun with it; every time he began to make some sense Buffy would launch a full attack on his sole, scratching the arch delicately and running her nails around the edge of his heel. His near-understandable words would melt into a wavering shriek, and she would have to repress her own laughter. She had no idea this would be so much fun.  
  
After toying with his left foot for a while, Buffy decided to wreak her five-fingered havoc to his right too. She gave him a short break while she squirted more lotion into her hands.  
"... isn't ... fair," Spike wheezed when he'd stopped laughing.  
"Life isn't fair, Spike," she said complacently, and began rubbing the lotion into his right sole. "And this is the most fun I've had since mine ended, so lighten up and stop whining." Buffy paused, amused at how tense he'd become when she stopped rubbing, and slowly drew a single finger down each sole. Spike all but yelped and bucked back against the bed, but his bonds held tight. She began scrabbling at both arches at the same time, teasing the sensitive skin with her long nails. Buffy was amazed at how fast he became like an animal in a cage; Spike thrashed and snarled, but mostly he laughed, and that made his first two actions not quite as threatening as he'd meant them to be. She scratched slowly up his arches and found a particularly sensitive spot right beneath the toes -- he nearly squealed when she scraped her nails along it, which made Buffy grin and attack with renewed fervor. Spike finally gave in, realizing he could do nothing to stop her, and stopped trying to break the manacles around his wrists. When she looked up from scrabbling her nails quickly all over his helpless soles, he had collapsed on the bed, laughing desperately and still giving his ankles and wrists the random useless tug. Buffy smiled, then went back to her job.  
  
In no time, Spike was a hysterical mess. His face was red and streaked with tears that hadn't been caught in the blindfold; his hair was mussed, his chest heaving with screams of laughter. Buffy basked in the glory of conquest, but couldn't help feeling sorry for him -- she assumed that by this point, most people would have passed out. Poor Spike didn't need air, so he couldn't escape through unconciousness. After nearly an hour, she finally let up, her fingers slowly stroking up and down his surprisingly soft soles. Instead of being a comfort, the light tickling made his shrieks die down to breathless giggles -- not as desperate, but still not a sound of happiness. When he stopped laughing altogether, he let out a frustrated moan, then a whimper.  
"Stop," he groaned softly. "Please." That did it; Buffy turned from his feet and dug through a pile of dirty clothes. Spike let out a slow, relieved sigh. After a moment, he broke the silence. "Buffy?" he asked quietly. There was a tone of embarrassment in his voice, and she couldn't blame him. When Buffy turned back, Spike was uselessly turning his head as if trying to see her. She felt an unexpected pang of sympathy for him and hated herself for it.  
"I'm right here," she said quietly, kneeling at the foot of the bed with the terrycloth towel she'd found. Gently, she began wiping the lotion from his feet, but even that made Spike jerk back and giggle a little. When he had control of himself, he spoke.  
"Buffy," he began again, and his soft voice became a harsh growl. "I am going to fucking kill you." She nearly dropped the towel in surprise.  
"What?"  
"You'll have to let me out of these chains sometime. If you don't, l'll eventually break through myself. And when I do, I am going to find you and fucking kill you." Buffy stared at him in disbelief, then slowly continued to wipe the lotion from his feet, deliberately brushing the soft material against tender spots. Spike was flinching and gasping again in a short amount of time.  
"Not the brightest Crayola in the box, are you, Spike?" she asked simply. When he looked in her direction, slightly confused, Buffy went on. "If I'm going to get killed -- or at the least, severely maimed -- for this, I'm going to work it for all it's worth." She straightened and tossed the towel to the side.  
"Touch me, Slayer, and I'll --"  
"Lay there and take it," Buffy said, undaunted, and slowly straddled his hips, "because you can't do anything else. Brace yourself, big boy. Round two's just beginning."  



End file.
